“I Cried, But I Did Not Quit”

by A_F_R_O_W

 

I cried,

but I did not quit.

When ravenous racism,

raged at my Blackness,

I did not spit back.

When playground “games”

insisted that

I wear cardigans,

atop my head,

to mimic straightened hair,

I could have cried,

but did not dare,

for fear, of sitting out.

Not, fitting in,

was not an option.

Joining in,

I could not

live without.

Kiss-chase,

left me broken-hearted.

No-one chose me.

I was “too dark” .

Dumped,

before romance had started…

which set up a trend…

Totally rejected,

from beginning,

to the end

of my scholastic journey.

But,

Mum said this, to me…

“That’s not what

your education’s for!

It’s not about looks!

Now, walk tall, like I taught you!

Take your brain,

your books,

your words,

and use them,

to burst through

segregation’s door!”

Her, ever eloquent, encouragement,

was Heaven-sent and timely.

So, that’s what I did.

Kept aiming high.

Began to think

my skin

was welcomed in…

at every level…

But, how wrong was I.

Frequently,

finding my surroundings

less diverse…

I grew stronger.

Felt no compulsion,

to rehearse responses,

in the face of questioning,

as to my presence,

at events,

billed as,

“exclusive”.

As the meaning,

reached new depths…

rather than, reclusive,

I grew,

profound.

I mean,

how long and, just,

how far,

would people go,

in vain attempts, to mute my sound?

How much harder,

would I have to try?

Why was there a need

for me to justify

my breathing, of the same air?

Why does

a raised brow of the eye,

still remain there,

whenever I express opinion?

Why shouldn’t I pronounce

my thoughts,

with clarity of diction?

Why must I be classified,

“Exotic. From the village.”

What does that, even, mean?!

What does that provide?

I. Am. A. Londoner.

Black. Afro-Caribbean. British.

Outside and inside.

Born here.

I won’t hide my light.

So,

what makes you think

you have the right

to steal the bread

out of my basket of

pre-destined opportunities?

Are. You. For. Real?!!!

What makes you feel

that you can shout the odds,

behind my back,

when I have read my paper,

drunk a pint,

in peace…

and head to the ladies’,

for release?

When will your cowardice cease?

At least,

address your disease,

to my face.

If not,

pipe down!

I think you’ll find,

I’m staying.

Going somewhere,

fuelled by

Joy and Blessings,

known as,

Success…

You may hate me.

But,

I will be in Love…

I shall abide,

in humblest Gratitude,

for whom God has made me..

A message,

to the mess of prejudice,

who cannot be dismissed…

nor, displaced…

A,

uniquely-crafted,

work of art..

A credit,

to His Hallowed

Human Race.

∗

 

©A_F_R_O_W2020.

All Rights Reserved.